


Earth to Will

by Skaboom



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: "I can fix that" trope, Dex is a handyman at an apartment complex, It feels weird calling them Derek and Will., M/M, Nursey is a pharmacist, awkward pining, but it made sense for the story..., more awkward pining, shenanigans ensue
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-13
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-11-16 13:04:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18094832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skaboom/pseuds/Skaboom
Summary: When William Poindexter comes down with an uncomfortable double infection that leads him to the hospital pharmacy, the last thing on earth he expects, or wants, is to be met face to face with the most beautiful pharmacy technician - no, most beautiful man - he's ever seen. If only he, himself, wasn't awkward around hot guys...and didn't look like death warmed over.





	Earth to Will

**Author's Note:**

> I got the idea for this story when I was at the pharmacy for antibiotics when I was sick, and the pharmacy tech was hot, and it felt, well... "how very dare YOU be attractive when I look like I'm dying?" and then I thought it would be fun for fic, so I hope you like it! This is part one, part two is coming!

The first time Will meets Derek, he looks like death warmed over...and even then, only _slightly_ warmed over. Will has a sinus infection _and_ bronchitis, so he’s dripping from his nose nonstop, and his already fair skin is even more pale, helping to highlight the redness of his nose and eyes, and _of course,_ his incredibly messy ginger hair and freckles. To make matters worse, he’s wearing a pair of ratty sweats and a sweatshirt that is in just as bad of shape. The beanie that Will had jammed over his hair to try and keep it somewhat in control is red and clashes terribly with his hair.

Altogether it isn’t a good look, but he was so sick by the time he got an appointment with his doctor that he didn’t really care. After all, he expected to go to the doctor, get diagnosed, get his meds, sleep for another two days, and then get back to his job as the on-site handyman for a local apartment complex.

What he doesn’t expect is for the pharmacy tech to be hot.

Not just hot. Drop dead gorgeous.

Not just drop dead gorgeous, but the most beautiful man Will has ever seen. He looks like a golden God, and Will? He looks like he’s on death’s door. But seriously, the man is beautiful. He has dark curls, and a jawline that could cut glass, and straight, white teeth, and a gentle smile that shouldn’t be legal. Honestly, he should be on the cover of GQ instead of behind the counter at the hospital pharmacy.  

“Have you taken this before?” The pharmacy tech - Derek, his name tag reads - asks Will.

“Uh...what?” Will looks up at him stupidly, because he wasn’t really paying attention to anything coming _out_ of Derek’s mouth, so much as he was looking at the mouth itself.

And damn, it’s a really, really nice mouth.

“Have you taken this before.” Derek holds up the antibiotic. “Amoxicillin?”

“Oh, uh...not-” Will has to pause to essentially hack up a lung into his elbow before he can finish his reply.

Sexy.

“Not recently, no.” Will shakes his head. It’s been awhile since he’s been this sick, and yeah, maybe it only got this bad because he stubbornly didn’t want to go to the doctor, and by the time he decided that he should probably be seen, it had all progressed to, well, this.

“Okay, well, you take one pill roughly every twelve hours for ten days. Now it’s important that, even if you start to feel better, you still finish the whole course, okay? You wouldn’t know how many people come in here having to re-up because they started feeling better, didn’t finish the cycle, and got sick again.” Derek’s smiling that gentle, kind smile, and Will is doing his best to focus on the words coming out of his mouth, but there are just so many of them, and he’s sick and distracted, and he’s pretty sure that he’s going to have to Google “how to safely take Amoxicillin” when he gets home. “Take them on an empty stomach if you can, but if you can’t, that’s fine, just don’t take them with yogurt, ‘cause you know, the whole antibiotics/probiotics thing? Not good. You can still have yogurt, though. Just not at the same time.”

There’s that damn smile. Again. And Will is wondering if he isn’t actually here, and if he has, in fact, actually died of his ailments, and this is his specially tailored version of eternal hell - sick, awkward, and in a seemingly everlasting conversation with the most gorgeous man alive.

“Well?” Derek looks at Will expectantly.

Oh God, has Derek still been talking while Will was zoning out?

“Uh...sorry, what?” Will asks, feeling even more embarrassed than he had been before...if that was even possible.

“Oh, no worries, you’re not feeling well,” Derek says. “I asked if you wanted to pay with cash or card.”

“Oh, card.” Will fumbles for his wallet and pulls out his card, handing it to Derek.

“Oh, we have the chip, just go ahead and-”

“Yup, right, sorry.” Will inserts his card into the chip reader, praying silently for the ground to just swallow him whole so that this whole interaction could be over with.

“There you go!” Derek puts the bottle into a bag with instructions, and hands it over to Will. “Feel better, William.”

“Wait, how-”

“I have your prescription right in front of me,” Derek says, answering the question without the other man even having to finish it.

“Right, yup. Bye.” Will grabs his meds and turns, leaving the pharmacy to go to his car, feeling...incredibly stupid. That had been one of the most painful interactions of his life, but on the upside...it was over, and he was finally heading home to get better.

The next time Will sees Derek, it’s even worse.

***

One of Will’s cousins came to visit him, staying in his apartment for a week, failing to tell Will that he had scabies.

Fucking _scabies_.

Little mites that burrow under your skin, and cause the absolute worst rash that Will has ever had in his fucking life.

This time Will doesn’t wait before going to the doctor. Pretty much as soon as the rash showed up, and his cousin told him the truth, he ran to urgent care, wanting to make sure that he got rid of this as soon as possible. Only this time, instead of just being sick with something that anyone can get, well, it was embarrassing.

Growing up, Will learned of scabies through his STD lectures in school, and now he isn’t sure how to handle the fact that he, William “perpetually-sexually-inactive-due-to-awkwardness” Poindexter has an STD.

And he didn’t even get to do the fun part!

The doctor sees him and diagnoses him immediately - it helps to know that there was contact with someone else who knew what was wrong with them, and he’s back at the pharmacy, praying to every fucking God he doesn’t even believe in that it will be _anyone_ but hot pharmacy tech who calls out his number, when…

“A43?”

Will looks up, and of course, the man calling his number is none other than hotter-than-hot, should-be-a-model-not-a-pharmacy-tech, Derek.

Well, fuck.

“That’s me.” Will walks up to the counter and gives his insurance card and date of birth so that Derek can process him correctly.

“Have you ever used this cream before?”

“God, no!” Will looks up at him, eyes wide. “Absolutely not! No, never. It wasn’t even _my_ scabies; it was my cousin. He came to visit and he didn’t fucking tell me he had...yeah.”

“Hey,” Derek says with an easy smile. “Not my place to judge.”

“Yeah, but…” Will sighs. “Yeah, okay, how does it work?”

“Okay, so.” He smiles. “Well basically, you just have to follow the directions on the box, they’re really specific, and very accurate. You apply the cream to your body…”

Derek keeps talking, but once again, Will zones out. Derek’s mouth is captivating, and the way that he says everything with just the hint of a smile, like he’s truly in love with the job that he’s doing, even when it’s telling some awkward dude how to cure his fucking scabies.

“Do you want me to grab one for you?” Derek asks, bringing Will back to the conversation.

“Huh?”

“Oh,” Derek smiles. “I remember you!”

And that’s...mortifying. That Derek places him from his lack of ability to pay attention when his medications are being described.

Fucking fantastic.

“Anyways, I was saying that an over the counter antihistamine can help with the itching… Do you want me to grab one for you?”

“Oh, yeah, sure, thanks.” Will nods, raking a hand through his red hair. Aside from the rash, he looks a lot better this time. There’s no red nose, no red eyes, and his skin isn’t as deathly pale as before. Thankfully, his hoodie and jeans hide the rash from sight, but that doesn’t change the fact that this hot pharmacy tech now knows that he has scabies. Plus, there’s the fact that his ears are bright red… which can’t be helping.

So. That’s basically just as bad as looking like he’s dying.

Maybe even worse.

“Alright, that should be that,” Derek says, returning with the antihistamine. “Cash or card?”

“Card,” Will says, paying for the drugs.

“Thanks, feel better!” Derek says, hitting Will with that smile again, and just. Ugh.

It’s infuriating, knowing that this handsome God knows he has scabies. It sucks.

It sucks a lot.

“Yup. Bye.” Will grabs his meds, and leaves as quickly as possible, utterly mortified by the second interaction he’s had with hot Derek. Pharmacy technicians should not be allowed to be hot, because really, no one going to a pharmacy ever looks good, and it’s just not fair.

It’s not.

The third time Will sees Derek, it is a complete shock.

***

There is a rotted floorboard on the walkway to one of the apartments in the complex, and Will is out there, boots, Carhartts, and a backwards baseball cap, with his toolbox, replacing the board, when hot pharmacy tech Derek walks out of the apartment he’s facing.

“Oh, hey! I know you, don’t I?” Derek asks.

Will just stares at him, dumbfounded. Hot pharmacy tech Derek doesn’t live here. He can’t. Will would know that, so what’s he doing here? Visiting his girlfriend or boyfriend, probably. He’s way too hot to be single, he’s so hot he probably has seven lovers, one for each day of the week, and-

“You come to my pharmacy sometimes!” Derek says, that stupid smile in place on his face, like once again, he was able to place Will from his sheer inability to pay attention to any of the words coming out of Derek’s sinfully gorgeous mouth when he’s speaking.

It’s a special skill.

One that he wishes he didn’t possess.

“Uh...yeah, yup.” By now, Will is sure that his ears are, as per usual, bright red, but at least he’s not sick this time...and looks moderately okay in his work overalls and boots. And at least this time, his dark green ball cap doesn’t clash with his hair.

So, small favors.

“And you’re a carpenter?” he asks, looking clearly surprised by that.

“No, well, sometimes. Sort of. I work here, I’m the on-site handyman, so...sometimes that means I’m a carpenter, yes, but not all the time. Sometimes I’m a plumber, an electrician, a general...fix-it-all kind of guy.” The words just keep coming from his mouth, and he can’t stop them, even though his brain is screaming at him to fucking shut up.

“That’s cool.” Derek smiles. “I’m absolutely useless when it comes to fixing things. The sink in our downstairs bathroom has been leaking for like...four months and I haven’t done fuck all about it, I mean,” he shrugs. “It’s just a little, so what’s the harm, right? It’d cost like a fortune for a plumber to come look at it, and I’ll google how to fix it one of these days. Or someone will.”

“I could fix that for you,” Will says, the words out of his mouth before he’s even had a chance to process them, and holy _God_ what is he saying?

“Oh, no, I couldn’t ask you to do that,” Derek says, waving it off.

“No, it’s fine! I mean, it sounds like you probably just need to tighten something up, it would probably only take, like...10 minutes or whatever.” And he knows he’s being ridiculous, he doesn’t even know this guy and he’s offering to come over and fix his sink? What the hell is he doing? He knows he’s way over the top, but he just can’t seem to stop talking.

“I mean…” Derek looks at him oddly. “If you really don’t mind, it would be super helpful. I can pay you in pizza and beer? I’m sure the other guys would be very willing to share anything in our beer fridge in exchange for the help.”

“Yeah, it’s no problem,” Will says. “I’m just about done here anyways,” he gestures to the newly replaced board. “If you give me an address, I can come by in probably an hour? Take a look at things?”

“Yeah, that’d be awesome, actually.” Derek is already pulling his phone out to get Will’s information.

“Will Poindexter,” Will says, giving the other man his name, and rattles off his number. “Just text me your address, and I’ll bring my tools.”

“Great. I’m Derek, by the-”

“I know,” Will says, the words fucking spilling out of his mouth before he can stop them. Again. And God, he really needs to learn how to filter.

“What?” Derek looks at him surprised.

“Nothing,” Will says quickly, stupidly.

“Okay...well, like I was saying, I’m Derek, Derek Nurse, but most of my friends call me Nurse, or Nursey.”

“Your last name is Nurse and you work in a pharmacy?” Will asks, his tone deadpan.

“Yeah,” Derek smiles. “I like the fittingness of it, you know?” He shrugs. “I like helping people, but I don’t do great with a ton of blood, so...pharmacy it is!”

“Oh, cool.” Will nods. “Well, yeah, just send me your address, and…”

“Done.” Derek smiles that dumb smile, and Will can feel a vibration in his pocket that is definitely from his phone.

He’s pretty sure.

“I’m around most of the day, so just...whenever works for you, and let me know when you’re on your way and your pizza order.”

“Will do.” Will gulps, turning back to his carpentry as the other man walks away, wondering how the hell he managed to get through that interaction without being punched in the face.

And still wondering who the hell Derek knows in apartment 44. It’s two women, he’s pretty sure, but he tries not to think too much about it as he finishes up the job.

“Tries”  being the operative word, and by the time he’s done, and tossing the old, rotted board in the dumpster, he’s sure that Derek has a girlfriend in his apartment complex. After all, as far as he can recall, both of the girls in 44 are good looking young women, though one of them has a boyfriend, who’s name he can’t quite remember, but he has long hair, and a mustache. The other one, though? Well, that must be Derek’s lady.

He cleans up, changes from his dirty work overalls into a pair of faded jeans, a t-shirt with a flannel over it, and the same cap and work boots. He grabs his tool box, and heads to his truck, texting Derek.

**Hey, on my way. As far as pizza, anything goes. Except anchovies. And pineapple.**

As he’s starting the car, he sees his phone light up, and he can’t help but reach out and take it.

**_Of course you wouldn’t like pineapple on your pizza. Oh well. You can be wrong about one thing, since you’re fixing our sink. See you soon!_ **

The smile that curls at the corner of Will’s lips is because he knows he’s getting pizza. Nothing more.

Or at least that’s what he tries to convince himself of the entire drive to Derek’s place.

He double checks the address when he gets to the house, because honestly, this place sort of looks like a falling down frat house, but it’s correct, so he grabs his tool box, and heads up to the front steps. He’s barely knocked on the door when it opens, and he finds himself face to face with Unit 44’s long haired, mustachioed boyfriend, shirtless, and seemingly completely comfortable being so.

“Hey!” The man grins. “You’re the handy fellow from Lardo’s complex that’s come to fix our sink, I take it?”

“Uh…” Will stares at him, his jaw hanging open.

“Yup, that’s him.” Derek comes into the picture, opening the door wider, and Will can’t help but notice that he’s changed, too. Instead of the sweats and hoodie he was wearing earlier, Derek is wearing a pair of dark jeans that fit him...flawlessly, in Will’s opinion, a plain white t-shirt, with a denim jacket over it, a beanie, and classic black and white Converse. He looks effortlessly cool, and as always, eternally gorgeous.

And then he hits Will with that smile, and if it wasn’t game over before, it certainly is now.

“Will, this is my good friend and roommate, Shitty.”

“Shitty?” Will stares at him, amber eyes wide.

“Well, that’s what everyone calls me,” Shitty says, hand held out. “Just sort of stuck. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Will.”

“You too, Mr....Shitty.” He shakes _Shitty’s_ hand, still trying to get his head around all of this.

“Just Shitty,” Shitty assures him with a smile.

“The rest of the boys are out,” Derek explains, as he opens the door wider for Derek. “And Shits is going to run out here pretty soon and pick up the pizza, but I can show you where the sink is?”

“Sounds good.” At least Will knows he will be at home fixing things, that comes a lot more naturally to him than any kind of social interaction. As soon as Derek shows him the sink, and turns it on so that Will can see the leak, he knows what’s wrong.

“Oh, yeah, easy.” Will smiles, opening his toolbox, and turning over so that he’s practically disappeared underneath the sink with a wrench.

It is easy. Too easy. He fixes the whole thing in about two minutes, and turns the sink on to make sure, before he closes his toolbox and heads back out into the common area...which is clean...but in a way that Will sort of suspects most things are just stashed in the hall closet or shoved under the couches.

“You’re done already?” Derek asks, looking at him, shocked.

“Yeah, like I suspected, just needed a little tightening.” He smiles.

“Well, damn. Shits won’t be back with the pizza for at least 20 minutes…”

“Oh, I can just go…” Will says awkwardly.

“Don’t be ridiculous! Here, have a beer - I mean, are you done working for the day?”

“Probably.” Will nods. His schedule is...sort of based on need. If there’s an emergency at the complex, he’ll have to handle it, but other than that, he’s taken care of everything that was on his list, and it’s almost dinner time, so he suspects things will be alright.

“Alright, so stick around.” Derek smiles like this sort of thing is easy for him, and it dawns on Will, as Derek disappears into the kitchen to get them each a beer, that it probably is. He’s a people person. Something that Will has pretty much no experience with at all.

Except for his best friend, Chris Chow, who is a people person sort of by the default of being absolutely in awe of every single person that he meets. It’s endearing. But what Derek is is different, and it’s not so much endearing as paralyzing.

Everything Derek does is paralyzing.

“Here. Hope you like IPAs. It’’s apparently all we have.”

“I’m fine with whatever,” Will says, admitting, he realizes, that he’s not the craft beer swilling sort of guy that Derek clearly is.

Because of course Derek is, with his jacket and his jeans and his beanie, and his looking like he just hopped off of a magazine cover glorifying some subtle version of hipster fashion, like he doesn’t have a care in the world, but could talk about beers, and indie bands, for days on end without getting board.

“Earth to Will?”

And that’s when Will realizes that his thoughts spiraled, and once again, he missed something that Derek was saying.

“Oh, shit, sorry.” He takes a sip of his beer.

“No worries,” Derek says, sitting down on the couch, leaning into it like he was fucking born to lounge just so. “I was just asking where you’re from, you’ve got a little bit of an accent.”

“Oh, Maine,” Will replies.

“That’s cool, that’s cool.” Derek smiles. “I’m from New York, but I’ve been in Massachusetts for awhile now. Do you like it here?”

“Oh, yeah, it’s cool. There’s a lot...less lobsters,” Will says, realizing how stupid that is only once the words have left his mouth.

“That’s true,” Derek says with a laugh, and if his smile was villainous, the laugh is the most evil thing Will has ever experienced.

“How many people live here?” Will asks, figuring he should at least try and participate in the conversation, rather than stare at the future 2019’s Sexiest Man Alive, and hope for the best.

“Well, it’s me and Shitty, who you met, then our buddies Adam and Justin, who are out, and then Shitty’s lady and our good friend, Lardo - sorry, Larissa, she lives in your complex? That’s who I was visiting earlier, anyways, she’s here a lot,” he says. “And then when they’re in town, Jack and Eric - friends from college, well, everyone’s friends from college, but they live up in Providence,” he says. “They visit a lot, though, so they have a room here.”

“Wow,” Will manages to say, though he’s not sure he’ll remember a single name that was just told to him. Except Shitty. He’s pretty sure he’ll never forget that one.

“Yeah, it’s a pretty colorful cast of characters, but I love it. I love being around people, and most of us lived together in school, so we know how to make it work.” He takes a slow slug of his beer.

And Will is most definitely _not_ staring at his Adam’s apple as he swallows it.

“So, what got you into handy work?” Derek asks when he’s finished with his sip.

“Oh my uncles taught me a lot of things when I was growing up, how to fix, well, just about anything, and when I went to college, I got a job working on campus doing fix-it stuff, so it just seemed like a natural progression, you know? And I like it.” He shrugs. “I like being able to take something that’s broken, and make it work again. It’s just rewarding and fun, and it’s…” he realizes that he’s on a tangent, and unable to stop himself any other way, he puts his bottle to his lips and starts to drink his beer.

“Drink” being a kind way of saying “chug.”

“Thirsty?” Derek asks with a smile.

“What?” Will looks at him, shocked, temporarily misunderstanding what he’s saying, and assuming that Derek can tell from his stupid fucking gaze that, yeah, Will is thirsting. Hard.

“You’re really going for that beer,” Derek points out.

“Oh.” Will flushes, and he hates how fair his skin is, how easy it is to tell when he’s embarrassed. “Sorry.” He takes a slower sip, and sets his mostly-finished beer down on the coffee table.

There are no coasters, and the thing is absolutely covered with beverage rings.

He could fix that - he could just sand it down a little, refinish it, and it would be almost as good as new, but he says nothing. For once, he is able to keep his stupid mouth shut.

“No worries,” Derek says again, and the ease with which he says it for, what, the millionth time, makes Will slightly sure that nothing bothers this guy. Ever.

Will busies himself with looking around the room. There are two TVs, about six different gaming consoles, countless controllers, and three bookshelves crammed with an odd combination of cookbooks, fiction, poetry, and...law books?

“Eclectic, I know.” Derek smiles as he catches Will’s gaze. “Like I said, colorful cast of characters.”

“Law books?”

“Shitty, actually,” Derek says, taking another sinfully attractive slug of his beer. “He just finished law school. He’s studying for the Bar.”

“Huh,” Will says, not sure what else to say to that. A guy named Shitty, who looks like _that_ , studying for the Bar exam?

He debates asking Derek to pinch him so that he knows he’s not dreaming, but he’s pretty sure he’ll melt if Derek touches him, so he doesn’t.

“The cookbooks belong to Eric and Jack...well, mostly Eric. Entirely Eric. The fiction is a hodgepodge of everyone, and the poetry’s mine. Mostly.”

“Oh, cool.” Will smiles.

“You like poetry?” Derek asks.

“Uh…” Will feels caught. He doesn’t like poetry. He doesn’t hate it, either, but he’s never really understood the appeal of it, when you could just say something more straightforward in prose.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to,” Derek says.

“I guess...it’s really not my thing,” Will admits.

“That’s cool,” Derek nods. “Everyone’s got their stuff. Although, I gotta say, there’s always something that works for everyone, you know? Even if it’s just one poem.”

“I’m sure that’s true,” Will says. “I guess I just haven’t found one that works for me yet.”

“Good things take time.”

Derek takes another sip of his beer while Will tries everything in his power to keep his jaw from hanging open, because how is this guy real? He’s gorgeous and sensitive, clearly smart, and seemingly bothered by nothing, and he’s just...the complete package that Will has no idea what to do with.

“What did you study in college?” Will asks after a minute. He figures it’s a safe question, since Derek has already mentioned that he knows his roommates from college, so it’s not like he didn’t go…

“Poetry and literature,” Derek says with a grin.

“That...makes a lot of sense,” Will asks, feeling his ears growing hot at the stupidity of it all. What does he do now? A part of him is dying to ask Derek if he writes poetry, but if he opens that door, what if Derek brings him something to read? What if he hates it, because it’s poetry, and he has trouble with poetry?

Will is sipping on his beer, and definitely dangerously close to another one of his infamous attention-draining thought spirals when the door bursts open.

“Guess who’s back, fuckers!”

It’s Shitty, with a wide grin on his face, and about five pizza boxes in his arms.

Initially, Will is shocked by the intrusion, but seeing the calm, ‘this happens everyday’ sort of expression on Derek’s face, he decides not to say anything. It’s clear that things are different here than at his one bedroom apartment, where he lives alone.

With one pizza box at a time. Maximum.

“My man!” Derek gets up and helps Shitty put the pizzas on the counter, high fiving his friend and tossing his beer bottle in the recycling.

Will can’t help the small part of him that is pleased this guy recycles.

Then he wonders why he was surprised by that, even for a second, because from everything he’s gleaned so far about Derek, _of course_ he recycles.

He’s thinking about recycling, and Derek, and very little else, when all of a sudden, there’s a beer bottle dangling in front of his face.

“Looked like you were getting a little low,” Derek says with a grin as Will takes the bottle, quickly finishing his first and setting it down before taking a careful slug of the next one. He knows that he has to be careful - when he drinks, his fair complexion gives him away, and he gets pretty red pretty quickly. Sure, a couple of beers shouldn’t be a problem at all, but he doesn’t want to make a fool of himself in front of Derek, and apparently, Shitty.

At least not more of a fool than he has been already.

“Here,” Derek opens the pizza box that he brought over. “The half without the pineapple on it is yours,” he says with a wink, and Will holds back a groan.

Because really, who puts pineapple on pizza? It’s sweet, and it simply doesn’t belong.

Of course, his mind begins to potentially, just maybe, just a little bit, shift as he watches Derek pull a piece of pineapple off the pizza and pop it into his mouth.

That, Will thinks, is the best argument he’s ever experienced for pineapple on pizza.

“Well, come on, dig in! You fixed the sink, we fix your hunger!” The words come from Shitty, who is already most of the way through his first beer, and has a second one all lined up and ready to go.

“Oh, right, thank you very much,” Will says, nodding awkwardly as he reaches for a slice of his gloriously cheesy, sausage and olive pizza...completely void of pineapple.

Will is thankful for the arrival of the food, and the second beer. It gives him a reason not to talk. If his mouth is full, no one is expecting him to say a damn thing, so he just listens, eating the pizza, as Shitty and Derek talk about their plans for the night.

Eric and Jack are coming to visit, and Will is at a loss for why this means Shitty got fewer pizzas than he would have otherwise, until a little later in the conversation, when Derek mentions the several pies Eric is likely to make, and even then, it only sort of makes sense.

These two speak in fragments. The way they talk, the names they use, it doesn’t make a lot of sense to Will, but he’s mesmerized. It’s nice, he thinks, to be a fly on the wall of this conversation, to be able to stare at Derek without being noticed, to listen while he talks to someone else, and not have to be in a blind panic about what’s being said to him directly.

It’s nice, that is, until he realizes he’s eaten four slices of pizza in about 15 minutes, and he has none left.

Abruptly, Will gets to his feet.

“I should get going,” he says, setting his half-finished beer down.

“There’s no rush,” Derek says, turning to him, that easy smile lasering it’s way into Will’s brain, getting under every part of his skin. “You can stay, we’re having a chill night around the house, and there’ll be pie eventually.”

“Yeah, join the party,” Shitty says with a smirk. “We’re just gonna eat, drink, talk, get our asses whooped by Lardo at Smash Bros…”

Will still can’t totally get over the fact that short hair in 44 is called Lardo by her friends, but what can he do? There’s a lot that he apparently can’t quite get over today.

“I can’t, I’m sorry... I’ve got plans,” he says.

And by plans, he means feed his cat, crack open a beer, and watch as many episodes of MacGyver as he can before he falls asleep. It’s not the most interesting life, but it works for him.

“Well... we wouldn’t want to keep you,” Derek stands to help show him out.

“Thanks again for the pizza and the beer - where should I-” he gestures at his beer bottles.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of ‘em,” Derek says.

“Okay, thanks.” Will shifts awkwardly, grabbing his tool box and heading for the door.

“Hey, don’t mention it. Thank _you_ for fixing our sink!”

“Oh, anytime,” Will says, his ears starting to turn red again. Praise, for him, was always sparse growing up, and now, he has difficulty with any sort of thanks.

Compliments are even worse.

“Hey, be careful what you offer,” Derek says with a smile. “This house isn’t exactly new.”

“Well,” Will bites his lip - just fleetingly, before realizing he’s doing it, and stopping as quickly as he can. “You know how to get a hold of me.”

“That I do.” Derek opens the door for Will, still hitting him with that truly unfair smile. “See you around, Will.”

“See ya.” Will waves awkwardly with his free hand, and then practically runs for his truck, wondering how in the world he survived that interaction at all, and how to make sure he never gets himself into a situation like that again.

So of course, Derek texts him just over a week later.

***

**_Hey, man, sorry to bother you, but something is seriously wrong with our dryer. It won’t even do a pair of socks. I called a couple repair services and they’re...pricey even for an evaluation. I was wondering if you could be bribed with a fresh pecan pie to come and take a look at it? You don’t have to fix it or anything, just...tell us what’s wrong with it so we can figure out the cheapest way to get it drying again?_ **

Will stares at the text for a solid half an hour, reading it over and over again, wondering if it’s a trap. Derek is a good looking guy. Good looking guys know how to use that to their advantage, to get things for free. Things like maintenance around the house. Does he know that Will is in the palm of his hands?

Then, Will realizes it doesn’t matter if Derek is playing him, because he is physically incapable of robbing himself of a chance to see the gorgeous man again, and his fingers are replying before his brain catches up to the action.

**Yeah, no problem. I can stop by tonight around 6, if that works?**

The reply is almost instantaneous.

**_You’re a lifesaver._ **

Followed, seconds later, by:

**_Whipped cream or ice cream for your pie?_ **

Will just smiles.

**Whipped cream.**

**_Ugh. I should have known. No pineapple, no ice cream, no fun._ **

Will doesn’t know how to reply to that, so he simply doesn’t. He figures he’s doing alright so far, and he doesn’t want to shoot himself in the foot, at least not more than he surely will once he arrives at Derek’s place.

Will finishes around the complex by 5, showers, and spends almost 45 minutes panicking about what to wear.

To go fix a dryer.

To go _inspect_ a dryer.

He finally lands on pretty much the exact same thing he wore last time, because it’s pretty much all he’s got. Jeans, a t-shirt, and a button down flannel, though at least this time, it’s blue and white. He pairs it with his classic work boots, and a black baseball cap, grabs his toolbox, and he’s off.

He doesn’t even need to GPS his way to the house, but due to his panic about clothes, he arrives a few minutes after six.

As he gets out of the car, he notices Shitty sitting on the porch with short hair from 44. _No, Lardo,_ he reminds himself, because stepping onto this property is like stepping into some weird, alternate universe, where everyone uses code names.

He briefly wonders if maybe this is a house of spies before realizing how stupid that is of a thought.

“Dexy! My man!” Shitty is on his feet, and patting Will on the back before he’s even all the way up the porch stairs. “When Nursey said you were coming by to take a look at our dryer, I about died of relief! That thing is mad fritzy.”

Will looks at him, eyes wide, unable to formulate words.

“You know,” Shitty says with a grin. “On the fritz.”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” he says with a nod.

“Hey, Dex,” Lardo says, waving from the deck chair she’s sitting on.  

Will doesn’t even question it. He’s not stupid. He knows they’re talking to him when they say Dex, he’s just not totally sure when that happened.

“Yo Nursey!” Shitty shouts. “Dex is here!”

And it’s only moments before Derek is coming down the stairs, somehow looking better than ever in Converse, faded jeans, and a sweater that looks somehow both sexy and incredibly cuddly. His curls are slightly damp, and he just _looks_ like he smells good.

“Dex, huh?” Derek asks with a smile.

“I guess,” Will says with a laugh.

“I like it. Come on,” he says. “I’ll show you the dryer.”

“Perfect.” Will grips his toolbox so hard that his knuckles whiten, because it’s hard to follow Derek down a flight of stares without staring at his ass.

He slips up once or twice, and damn, do those jeans fit Derek well.

“So here it is,” Derek says, patting the dryer gently. “It’s just...you know,” he shrugs. “Not working.”

“Okay.” Will smiles.

“Just uh...come on upstairs when you have an idea of what’s wrong, and we’ll give you pie,” Derek says with a smile.

“Sounds good.”

Will forces himself not to watch as Derek heads back upstairs, and he gets to work inspecting the dryer.

It turns out, there are two things wrong with it. First, the lint trap looks like it hasn’t been cleaned out since 1978, and second, the drum belt has snapped. He removes the broken belt, and heads back upstairs, leaving his toolbox behind.

Derek is sprawled across an entire couch, one leg on the body of the couch, the other slung over the back like his body goes on forever (and Will thinks it might), reading a book that looks like it’s been around since the dawn of time.

He clears his throat.

“Oh, hey, Dex,” Derek sits up, and Will thinks he might die just from the sheer enjoyment he gets out of hearing his new nickname come out of Derek’s mouth. “So, what’s the diagnosis?”

“Snapped drum belt,” Will says, awkwardly holding up the broken part as though Derek might not believe him if he can’t show him proof.

“Uh…” Derek looks at him, helpless, confused.

“Basically, your dryer can’t spin without it, and this one’s toast,” he said. “But you can get the part at Home Depot really cheap, so I just have to go grab one, and I can replace it in like, half an hour, tops.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” Derek says.

“If you go through a different guy, they’ll charge you like a 500% mark-up on a $6 product minimum, and then charge you at least an hour’s labor for a 20 minute job,” Will retorts.

“I’ll get my wallet and keys,” Derek says without further thought.

“What?” Will looks confused.

“I’ll come to Home Depot with you, I mean, to pay for the belt or whatever.”

“Oh.” Will feels like he might die from awkwardness right there on the spot.

Being side by side in the car will officially be the closest they’ve ever been, and he’s not sure he’s ready for that. 

“Yeah, hold on.” Derek marks his book and sets it down on that ring-stained coffee table that Will desperately wants to refinish.

Will just stands there, waiting for a couple of minutes for Derek to come jogging back downstairs, a beanie jammed over his now-dry curls.

“Let’s hit the road, Dex,” he says with a wink.

And yup. Will is pretty sure that killed him.

By the time he comes to, he’s in the passenger seat of Derek’s well-loved Prius.

Because of course he drives a Prius.

“You okay with this?”

“Huh?”

“There’s the Dex I know,” Derek says with a grin, and God, that makes Will feel like he could just melt right through the floor of this car, sink into the road, and that would be far preferable to where he is right now, because he sort of hates that Derek knows him best for his lack of attention.

When Will doesn’t respond, save for his ears turning red, Derek continues.

“The music?”

“Oh.” Will wasn’t even aware there was music playing until Derek points it out to him, but once he does, he’s not sure what it is. “I don’t know who this is. It’s fine,” he says.

“Alt-J,” Derek says.

“Oh, yeah,” Will nods like he’s heard of that band, but he’s pretty sure that Derek can tell he has no idea.

Thankfully, Derek doesn’t say anything.

The drive is quiet. Derek is focusing on the road, and Will is focusing on the music, which switches from the Alt-J song to something else he’s never heard before, but he’s 98% sure is a different band.

Halfway though the third song Will has never encountered before in his life, Derek parks the car outside of Home Depot.

“I’ll just follow you - and pay,” Derek says with conviction.

“Roger that.” Will smiles, because finally, _finally,_ he has the home court advantage. Home Depot is his home away from home. He knows this place better than he knows the back of his own hand, and dryer belts? He knows exactly what aisle those will be in, and he’s off.

“Hey, hold up there,” Derek says, jogging after him.

“Oh, sorry.” Will slows. “Usually when I’m here, I’m getting a bunch of stuff for the complex, and I’m a man on a mission.”

“No, don’t apologize, it’s impressive,” Derek says. “I’ve just never been in a Home Depot before, and I’m afraid if you get too far ahead of me, I’ll get lost, and it’ll be game over.”

“Don’t worry,” Will says, feeling more confident, more at home in a place that he is familiar with. “I won’t leave you behind with the lawnmowers.”

“Oh, thank God.” Derek laughs, continuing to follow Will through the appliances section of the store.

“Here we go.” After a moment of perusing the belts to find the right model, he lifts up a dryer belt.

“That’s it?” Derek asks. “That’s all we need?”

“Everything I need to fix it, I’ve already got in my toolbox - just need the belt.”

“Well, alright then, let’s check you out,” Derek says. “I mean, you know...check out with the belt.”

And it’s the first time Will has seen Derek stumble.

At all.

As they head to the check-out, he thinks that he needs to get this man to Home Depot more often.

By the time Will fixes the dryer and comes upstairs to let them know, Shitty and Lardo have moved inside, and are tangled together on the couch, playing a very aggressive game of Mario Kart while Derek has, once again, sprawled himself across the other couch with his book.

This time, though, he notices Will before he speaks.

“Hey there,” Derek says, marking his page and sitting up, tossing his book on the coffee table.   
  
“Hey.” Will smiles. “Your dryer should be working, you might want to throw a load in to test it, though, but...from what I can tell, it should be working.”   
  
“Oh, sweet! You’re the best, man.” Derek gets up from the couch and walks over to Will, high-fiving him. He looks over to where Shitty and Lardo are wrapped up in their game. “Shits would thank you, too, if he were focused on anything but finally getting out of second place.”

“Oh, that’s fine,” Will says with a flush.

“So, I believe I promised you pie?” Derek says.

“I mean…” Will shrugs, his ears flushing red.

“Come on, let’s give them space to work out their frustrations with red shells and well-aimed bananas.”

Derek leads Will to the kitchen and pulls a pie tin out of the fridge, and ice cream out of the freezer.   
  
“It’s up to you,” he said, putting two generous slices of pie onto two plates. “But if I were you, I would heat it up, it’s better warm. Especially if you’re going to put ice cream on it...oh wait, you’re not,” he says judgmentally.

“Hey, I trust your judgement, if you say it’s better warm, warm it is,” Will says, raising his hands in a placating way.

“Warm pie a la mode...or not, I guess, coming right up,” Derek says, putting the pie in the microwave and digging back in the fridge for whipped cream.

Gone is the man who seemed vulnerable at Home Depot, and returned is the confident man that Will is used to seeing Derek as, fixing a snack for the both of them.

And that’s when it strikes Will that he’s _used_ to seeing Derek. He’s met him enough times now that he knows how he views him, how he expects Derek to be, and that fills his chest with something warm that he hadn’t expected...for a moment.

Then he wonders how Derek is used to him being, and he thinks back to all those moments he wasn’t listening because he was too busy being in awe of Derek, and he thinks it’s probably that.

Great.

“Earth to Will,” Derek says, as if on cue, and then, and only then, does Will notice that there’s a piece of pie in front of him, with a nearly perfect dollop of whipped cream just starting to melt on top of it.

“Oh, thank you.” Will knows his ears were red, and he was sure that Derek noticed, too...after all, his ears aren’t exactly small, and they’re pretty pale, so it’s incredibly noticeable when he flushes like that.

Maybe that was one of the things Derek was used to him having. Bright red ears.

“Where do you go when you do that?” Derek asks a piece of pie smothered in ice cream already halfway to his lips.

“What do you mean?”

“Sometimes when I’m talking to you, you seem a million miles away.”

“Oh.” Will shrugs. He doesn’t want to lie, but he can’t very well tell the truth, he knows Derek doesn’t get lost staring at him, and why would he? So he knows that he has to simply settle for things being, well, like this. “I guess it’s just how I am.”

“Cool.” Derek lets it go and digs into his pie, and Will has to wonder if this man has ever let anything bother him in his life.

“Holy God, this is amazing!” Will exclaims after his first bite of pie.

“Yeah.” Derek grins. “Bitty - sorry, Eric, is the best baker I’ve ever met in my life. When he lived here full time, I had to go to the gym like...twice a day to keep his creations from taking over.”

This tells Will two things about Derek:

  1. That he has a sweet tooth, and
  2. That underneath that cozy looking sweater, he probably has a body that won’t quit.



So naturally, Will hears nothing else Derek says for the rest of the afternoon.

When he gets home that night, showers, and flops into bed, no matter what he does, all Will can think about is Derek, and how confused he looked in Home Depot, and how good he looked in his jeans, and how much he wants to touch, well...pretty much all of him, but the person available for him to touch is himself.

So he does.

When he finishes, he tries to push the images his mind conjured up out of his head, because he knows better, he does...but he still can’t help himself. Derek isn’t like anyone he’s ever met, and now that he’s by himself, surrounded very much by his own thoughts, there’s no denying it.

He’s got it bad for Derek Nurse.

In true William Poindexter fashion, he handles his crush the best way he knows how. He avoids it entirely. This means trying not to think about it, staying as far away from the pharmacy as he can, and not reaching out to Derek. Slightly more paranoid additions mean that he doesn’t drive down the street Derek lives on, and he starts taking vitamins compulsively to try and keep from getting sick.

It’s not good, but it’s far superior to the alternative, in his mind. He understands now, maybe for the first time truly, why they call it a crush, because when he _does_ let himself think about it, it feels like a weight pushing down on his chest, crushing his heart.

The best thing he can do in a situation like this, other than pretend that it doesn’t exist, is get drunk about it with his best friend, which is what he does.

“Your haircut looks amazing.”

Those words are the first he hears out of his best friend, Chris’ mouth, and Will can’t help but smile. Chris Chow is the best way to make anyone feel better, and he’s already working his magic on Will. Chris is the single most positive person that Will’s ever met, and he seems constantly in awe of everyone.

“Thank you,” Will smiles.

He gets a pitcher of beer and two glasses, and they sit down to talk.

“So,” Chris says with a smile. “Tell me about this guy who’s giving you trouble.”

“How do you-”

“I know you, Will. I know your repressed conservative upbringing makes your gayness hard for you, and I know beautiful boys make your life and your gayness hard for you, and that leads to you getting pent up… about lots of things and asking to go get many, many beers.”

“Damn.” Will looks at Chris. “You know me too well.”

“So, who is he?”

“Ugh, he’s the pharmacy tech at St. Gabriel’s. I met him when I went in for my sinus/bronchitis infection thing, and then, ugh,” he chugs his whole beer and pours another. “Again for the scabies thing.”

Chris knows everything about him. There’s no hiding it, no point in trying.

“Okay…” Chris tilts his head to the side.

“His roommate is dating one of the girls in the complex I work at, and I’ve gone to his house a couple of times to fix things.”

“Oh, wow, that’s...wow.” Chris smiles. “Okay, so he likes you back?”

“No, he’s hot and he knows how to get free stuff, and I can’t tell him no,” Will admits.

“Aw, I bet that’s not true,” Chris says with an encouraging smile. “What’s his name?”

“Derek. Nurse.” Will takes another long pull of his beer.

“Ohhhh, wow…” It takes Chris about 13 seconds to pull up a Derek Nurse on Instagram. “This him?” He shows it to Will.

“Yeah.” Will knows in a second that’s him. “For sure.” 

He takes the phone from Chris’ hand, scrolling through Derek’s instagram as much as he can before he has to stop. It’s all pictures of books, or him laughing with his friends, and none of the shots of him are those staged selfies or anything like that, they’re just pictures someone took of him and his friends, and they’re gorgeous.

Derek is gorgeous.

“Fuck.” Will slams his drink and rests his forehead against the table. “I want him so bad.”

“Makes sense.” Chris nods. “He is very good looking.”

“He is.” Will groans. “And he could not be less into me.”

“You don’t know that.” Chris reaches out, patting Will on the back.

“I do,” he says. “I do know it.”

“Okay.” Chris knows when it’s good to push Will, and when it isn’t, and the fact that Will is two beers deep after moments of being in the bar, and has his head pressed against the table tells Chris it’s time to drop it.

After a few minutes, Will brings his head back up, and pours himself another beer.

“How’s work?” he asks Chris.

And that’s that...except for the part where Will has to drink an entire pitcher and a half of beer to even come close to forgetting the way that Derek’s Instagram looks...and makes him feel

***

He manages to go two full weeks, and a couple of days, without really having to deal with anything head on, but because the universe has never particularly done well by Will, right when he’s about to finish work for the day on a Friday night, his phone lights up.

**_Help! I know this is super last minute, but Bitty and Jack are coming to visit this weekend and SOMETHING IS WRONG WITH THE OVEN. PLEASE, please, please come take a look at it. I promise we called someone but they can’t get out here until Monday, and by then Bits will be gone, and we won’t have pie! SOS. I can probably cut you a check or something. This is an EMERGENCY._ **

The drama of the text alone has Will smiling so much that the corners of his eyes crinkle before he reminds himself that he’s trying to stay away from this guy.

Oh, who is he kidding? He doesn’t stand a chance.

**Sounds like you’re at DEFCON 1. I’ll be there as soon as I can.**

He doesn’t even shower or change this time - he just grabs his toolbox, and still in his work overalls, gets in his truck to head over, checking his phone one last time before he does to see one simple text message.

**_You are a true hero._ **

Will doesn’t stop grinning until he’s knocking on the door of Derek’s house.

“Oh Dex, thank FUCK you’re here!” Shitty says, practically pulling Will into the house by the strap of his overalls, and damn. These people really take their pie seriously.

Also, is Shitty the only one whoever opens the door around here?

He wants to ask where Derek is, but he knows that’s not what he’s here for. He’s here to fix the oven, and it’s clearly an issue.

“Show me to the patient,” he says with all the seriousness he can muster.

He can fix almost anything, and Home Depot is open for three more hours, so unless there’s a part they can’t get there, he’s pretty confident he can take care of it.

It’s a quick fix, as it turns out.

The oven is unplugged. Of course, this isn’t exactly as easy as plugging a lamp back in. He knows he’ll need to find the breaker (or rather, ask where it is), and make sure the electricity to the oven is disconnected before he attempts to plug it back in, but as far as problem’s go for broken appliances, it’s not a tough one.

“Good news,” Will announces, walking into the living room where Shitty is bent over a table, reading a stack of papers that look daunting. “Your oven’s going to be just fine.”

“Oh, thank God.” Shitty smiles.

“Yup. I just need you to show me where the breaker is? I need to turn off the electricity in that wall.”

“Okay, I’m kinda in the middle of something, hold on.” Shitty stands up and walks to the bottom of the stairs. “NURSEY! DEX NEEDS YOUR HELP!” He shouts, and it’s so loud that Will thinks it might have blown him clear into next Tuesday.

But when Derek comes down the stairs wearing nothing but a pair of sweats, Will’s pretty sure he’s been blown clear to next _year._

The sweats are riding low on Derek’s hips, and Will forces himself not to look at the hint of the pelvic “v” poking up above the waistband. Of course, this means he looks up to Derek’s torso, which is just as bad...if not worse. He has broad shoulders that taper down a little at the waist. He has abs. Four of them, with what looked like the beginnings of two more, and his arms are unnecessary. His hair is tousled, his eyes are heavy-lidded, and this is the first time that Will has seen Derek anything short of clean-shaven.

“Sorry,” Derek reaches up, rubbing an eye. “I was reading, guess I fell asleep. What’s up?”

“Oh, I need access to your, um…” Will can’t remember the fucking word for circuit breaker, and his eyes widen with panic. “To your, uh…” He squeezes his eyes shut, hoping that that will help him to erase the image of Derek shirtless, but it’s burned onto the insides of his eyelids.

“Show him where the circuit breaker is, Nursey,” Shitty calls over his shoulder, sort of saving Will from his embarrassing moment, but at the same time, not helping in the slightest.

“Yeah, that,” Will says. He reaches up, removing his baseball cap and raking a hand through his orange hair. If Derek doesn’t put a shirt on, he’s not sure how he’s going to survive the next thirty seconds.

“Oh, for sure, one sec.” Derek disappears back up the stairs, and returns a moment later pulling a hoodie over his head. Will watches, though he tries not to, as the excess of bare skin is replaced by the ratty Samwell University fabric.

The addition of the sweatshirt is both a blessing and a curse. Derek is covered up now, so maybe Will has a shot at focusing, but at the same time, he finds himself already missing the sight of Derek half naked.

Boy, he really is gone for this guy.

“Okay, come on.” Derek moves in front of Will, heading towards the kitchen. “It’s in the garage.”

Will follows in silence, wondering how the hell he is going to get past this crush if things in Derek’s house keep breaking.

He asks Derek to shut off the electric flow to the kitchen, since the labels on the breaker have worn off, and once that’s done, it’s minutes before the oven is fixed. He doesn’t tell the rest of the house that it was merely unplugged - over time, those plugs can come loose, he supposes, and he doesn’t want them to be embarrassed.

“So, what do we owe you?” Derek asks when Will comes back out of the kitchen announcing the oven is all fixed up.

“Oh, no,” Will shakes his head. “It’s fine, it was really nothing.” After all, he would feel criminal charging them for the simple task of plugging the oven back into the wall, but he still doesn’t want to point out that that’s what it was.

“I said we’d cut you a check if you made it all the way out here to help us. You have to let us give you a little something…”

“No, I couldn’t do that.” Will says. “I, uh...I don’t charge friends for stuff like this.”

The words hang in the air, and Will? He tries to reach out and pull them back, because they’re not friends. They’ve met a few times, Will has fixed a couple of things, they’ve shared pie and beer, and that’s it.

They’re not friends, but he’s said it, and he can’t take it back, and the time between the words leaving his mouth and Derek’s response is lengthy and blistering.

“Well,” Derek says, that easy smile taunting Will just as much as it always does. “Then, as friends, let me know the next time you have a cold or something. I can get a discount on the over the counter stuff.”

And that’s that. Will is thinking that it can’t be that easy, that just because they said it like that doesn’t mean they’re friends, does it? It would be nice, he thinks, to be friends with Derek, and maybe Shitty, too. They seem fun, they seem nice, but people like that don’t tend to gravitate to Will, and he’s not sure what to do about that.

The thought worms it’s way back into his head that everything Derek is saying and doing is to get handy work for free. He must know, Will thinks, how gorgeous he is. He must know that he has Will eating out of the palm of his hand, and he must just be playing into it, because Will is awkward, and ugly, and bad at socializing, so why would a guy like Derek want to be his friend? That must be it 

As long as Will makes sure that he knows that, he will be safe from whatever feelings certainly haven’t already infiltrated him. He takes a deep breath, and makes a mental note to try and keep this part of him back. They might be friends, but if they are, it’s very much a friendship that Will knows is unbalanced, because he knows how he feels, and he’s pretty sure he knows how Derek feels, and he’s very sure those two things don’t match up.

Will is just about to leave when the door bursts open.

“Is my Betsy alright?!” A slim blonde man walks in the door with a worried expression on his face.

“Don’t you worry, Bitty,” Shitty says, popping right up from his papers. “Our resident new best friend/handyman Dex was on the case! She’s good as new.”

“Oh, thank God.” The blonde rushes to the kitchen, completely ignoring the presence of the redheaded stranger in his house.

A tall, dark-haired man walks in behind him.

“ZIMMERMAN! GET OVER HERE YOU MOTHERFUCKER!” Shitty runs at the taller man, hugging him.

“Good to see you, too, Shits.” The dark-haired man smiles as he peels himself away from Shitty. “It’s good to be home.”

Will thinks this must be Jack and Eric.

“You know, you don’t have to go,” Derek says, leaning casually against the wall. “It’s probably going to be a pretty chill night, some pizza, some beer, whatever.” He shrugs.

“Thanks for the offer,” Will says, though he’s pretty sure he doesn’t stand a chance if he sticks around. “But I should get going, I-”

“Goodness gracious,” the slim blonde comes back into the room. “I am so sorry, you must be Dex. I’m Eric Bittle - call me Bitty.” The blonde - Eric? Bitty? Is shaking his hand before Will has even really had a chance to process what’s going on. “I’m sorry I was so rude earlier. I was just worried about my baby.”

“Betsy,” the tall dark-haired man comes over, putting one arm around Bitty, and reaching out with the other to shake Will’s hand. “The oven. I guess we all owe you one,” he said with a smile. “Thanks for saving my boy’s baby.”

So this is definitely Jack and Eric. 

“Oh, it was nothing, really,” Will flushes, though he’s sure that he wouldn’t be the only one blushing if they all knew how simple the issue really was. It wasn’t his style to shame people, however.

“Still, I appreciate it, it would have been devastating if we had come all this way and the oven didn’t work,” Jack said. “Making pie for everyone is sort of Bitty’s thing.”

“Speaking of, I should get back to work, but stay,” he says with a smile. “I’ll make you a blueberry-peach pie to take home if you stay.”

Before he has a chance to answer, Bitty is back in the kitchen, no doubt working on pie, and Jack is looking at him with searching blue eyes.

“He’ll get offended if you leave before the pie’s done,” Jack says, his gaze softening.

“Oh.” Will isn’t sure what to do.

“Come on, stay, bro,” Shitty says. “You haven’t met Holster and Ransom yet, and Lardo’s on her way over, and there’s pie! And there will be pizza, and so much beer.”

“Ransom and…” Will is trying his best to remember who they are, because everyone has weird names.

“Holster,” Derek says with a smile. “Or Justin and Adam, but…”

“Ransom and Holster,” Will smiles.

“You’re starting to get it.”

“So you’re Nursey, he’s Shitty, Lardo is Shitty’s girlfriend, Ransom and Holster are the other two roommates, Bitty is the blonde in the kitchen, and that’s...Jack,” he says.

“By jove, I think he’s got it!” Shitty says, clapping Will hard on the back.

“Just Jack?” Will asks.

“He’s Jack Zimmerman, it’s just the way it is.” Derek shrugs. “And you’re Dex,” he adds, nudging Dex in the arm. “Dex, who’s going to stay for dinner?”

Will pauses, looking over at Derek. Well, now he feels like he can’t really say no.

“Dex, who’s going to stay for dinner.” He nods, setting his toolbox down.

He feels vaguely out of place in his overalls, but no one else seems to give a rat’s ass about it, and he resolves to take a deep breath and do what he can to make it work. If it gets too unbearable, he’ll go home.

He’s already here, he might as well see this through, and get some pie while he’s at it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm still working on part 2, but it should be coming soonish! Feel free to check me out on tumblr, purplehoodiesandleatherjackets. If you do, you can see the cute art that karin848 did for this fic! And you can check out my betas on there, too! idlecade and pervypansexual! Thank you so much!


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